


No More, No Less

by ktula



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Violence, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 17:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13058757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktula/pseuds/ktula
Summary: “There’s no need to stare,” Hux says acidly. He takes his gloved hand out from behind his back, tugs harshly at his collar and turns his head just barely to the side, making eye contact with Kylo the entire time. “It’s exactly what you intended, I’m sure.”





	No More, No Less

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen TLJ twice.
> 
> I have feelings and I'm still in the process of working them out.
> 
> This is _not_ a kink fic -- the violence referenced below was non-consensual.

He summons Hux to the throne room because he can do that now, because as Supreme Leader, everything is open to him, and he can do whatever he wants because he is the be-all and the end-all, he is the final authority for the First Order, he is everything that they have and and everything that they look up to. He can summon Hux because everyone is subservient to him now, because they have to be. They _all_ have to be because he gets exactly what he wants, exactly how—

“What does the Supreme Leader require?”

“You’re late,” Kylo snaps, turning to face him, and Hux—

—and Hux is standing on the far side of the room, still dressed in his full uniform, a hint of stubble across his cheeks, jaw tight. He’s come a few steps in from the door, but not by much, hasn’t even crossed to the center of the room like he usually does. He’s not—he’s not looking at the throne, scavenged from the wreckage of the Supremacy and installed, temporarily, on the Finalizer. He’s not looking at the glory of the space that Kylo has created, all raw rocks and dark draperies, Sith and Jedi artifacts alike displayed in well-lit transparisteel cases so that people can see them, can see the treasures that the Knights of Ren have liberated so that all may bow down before their glory.

Hux isn’t looking at anything that Kylo has done here. He’s just staring at Kylo.

_Let him look._

Kylo stalks over, boots heavy on the freshly polished floor, lightsaber hanging at his belt, righteousness and justice in his stride. As Supreme Leader, Kylo has everything now—it’s all his, it’s all under his command, it’s everything that he’s ever needed or wanted and the previous failures don’t matter.

Not anymore.

Not when he’s won.

Kylo stops an arms-reach away from Hux. “You’re late,” he intones again, because Hux hadn’t acknowledged it the first time, and Force fucking damn it, Kylo wants his damned acknowledgment, wants Hux to admit that he’s fucked up, wants Hux to bend before him instead of just staring him down—

“I came as quickly as I could,” Hux says, and it’s a lie, it’s a fucking lie, it’s written all over the set of his eyes and the twist of his mouth. “ _Supreme Leader_.”

Kylo throws his hand out, fingers outstretched because he wants to be sure, because he wants to know why the lie happened, because he wants to know why the fuck Hux thinks it’s appropriate to lie to him now about something so fucking mundane when Hux could just say that he didn’t show up on time because he didn’t fucking _feel_ like it—

—and Hux flinches back.

It’s not like Hux’s normal facial expressions, which are all in the tightening around his eyes and the way his mouth moves, movements so small that most people would need to know Hux for years to be able to decipher the micro-expressions under the macro. It’s not like that at all—this _thing_ that Hux is doing is a full body flinch, an actual step backwards away from his Supreme Leader.

Kylo immediately puts his arm down, but the terrified expression on Hux’s face holds for seconds, literal seconds, _one, two, three, four, five_ and this isn’t supposed to happen, not here, not now, not in this context, not when it’s just the two of them—

Hux moves his feet together, tugging down the hem of his tunic, and looking down at the floor. When he tucks his hands behind his back, assumes perfect parade rest, and lifts his chin, he looks perfectly composed, exactly as he was before, except for …

There is—there was—something on the side of Hux’s neck, normally hidden by his tunic. Some—shadow, a trick of the light, some abnormality—

“There’s no need to stare,” Hux says acidly. He takes his gloved hand out from behind his back, tugs harshly at his collar and turns his head just barely to the side, making eye contact with Kylo the entire time. “It’s exactly what you intended, I’m sure.”

_As Supreme Leader, I do only what I have intended_ are the words that are in Kylo’s throat—but they die on his tongue as soon as Hux turns his head.

“Your neck,” Kylo says instead. It’s so—it’s so obvious from this angle. Kylo can see his own fucking fingerprints standing out against the paleness of Hux’s flesh. “Let me—let me fix that for you.”

Hux lets go of his collar, adjust his tunic again so that the marks are concealed. “What does the Supreme Leader require?” Hux asks again, his voice flat, and his hands behind his back where Kylo can’t see them.

Kylo moves his own hands back, pretending to mimic Hux’s stance and hiding the quick gesture he makes once his hands are concealed. He reaches out into Hux’s mind because he wants to see, wants to know, wants—

_should have known this was going to happen always happens this way no matter how long you wait everyone turns out to be like this in the end can’t believe you let yourself relax around him weak weak weak boy everyone does sooner or later this always happens sooner or later it’s been years but it always cycles back around and you’ve forgotten how to take a fucking hit but you’ll remember it again because this is the way it’s going to be from now on this is the lesson you were supposed to have learned but have consistently forgotten this is all you_

—Kylo doesn’t want to know, wishes he’d never looked. Everything in Hux’s head is so close to the surface, disappointment and inevitability roiling together, fighting for dominance underneath the stillness of Hux’s jaw, the angle of his cheekbones. Hux’s mind is usually so organized but right now he’s seething and the only clear thing Kylo can see is Hux’s mental list of all the men who have betrayed him with their fists or their boots, and Kylo’s name shining out front and fucking center at the top of the list—

“Nothing,” Kylo says, looking away. “I require—nothing.”

“I’ll take my leave, then,” Hux says tightly. “Good night, Supreme Leader.”

Kylo turns his head, watches Hux go through the curtain of his hair. Calls out his name just before Hux reaches the door.

“Armitage.”

Hux is nearly out of the room, but he turns on his heel anyway, snaps back to attention, and _waits,_ glaring.

Kylo swallows. “Will I—will I see you later? Like usual?”

_Will you let me make it up to you?_

_Will you let me start to repair—_

Hux doesn’t break eye contact, not even for a moment. “Is that an order, Supreme Leader?”

Kylo looks down at the floor, and then back up at Hux. “Fuck, no, it’s just—it’s just me. Asking.” He takes a deep breath. “As—as Kylo. Not as—just me. It’s not an order.”

“Then no,” Hux says tightly. “You won’t.”

They wait, for a moment—both of them staring, but neither of them speaking.

Kylo looks away first, and when he does, he hears the sharp click of Hux’s boots retreating, the swish of the door closing behind him.

He doesn’t need to look back to confirm that Hux is gone, but he does anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah. I'm still working through TLJ.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at heyktula.tumblr.com, and on twitter @kdotcaine, come find me there!
> 
> (Also, don't steal artifacts from other cultures and display them in your throne room. It's not a good look. Put that thing back where it came from.)


End file.
